


Into that Dark Night

by thewingedoctopus



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, eve is batman my good binch!, ping! pang! pow!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewingedoctopus/pseuds/thewingedoctopus
Summary: A newcomer has added their likeness to the city's repertoire of villains: yet another shadow amongst those that walk behind the Batman.The woman they call Villanelle.If New York was built on a grid, Gotham City was built off of a chessboard.And a new queen has arrived in town.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, we do need a Killing Eve Batman AU.

“Try to smile, Eve, we’re _happy_ to be here.”

The woman at the boy’s side glanced him over. “I am.” He blinked. “Happy to be here,” she added. He smiled his cockish grin and patted her shoulder, sighing. When a waiter walked by with a tray of champagne flutes he let out an interested sound and grabbed two of the crystal glasses, making the man pause for a moment before letting him dash off to other patrons once more. He handed one to his partner. He drank from his but she simply nursed hers, eyeing the crowd. 

“You know you’re not old enough, legally,” Eve said. 

He shrugged. “It’s legal if I’m under parental supervision.” She glanced at him, grimacing.

“Eve!” They turned in unison. “And a dashing Hugo at her side, as always.”

Hugo bent at the waist to bow quickly, offering a grin. 

“Niko,” Eve breathed.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” the man offered. He smiled genuinely at her, taking her hand in his larger ones. His mustache trembled with mirth as he looked her over. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Niko.”

Hugo smiled behind his glass. “She did pay for the whole night, after all.” He shied away from Eve’s pointed look and nodded to the pair of them before heading off and losing himself in the crowd. 

“I mean it, Eve, I’m glad you’re here.” Niko linked his arms with hers. He pressed a kiss to the edge of her hair, near her ear. “I think I can say that since you’re not paying for my campaign.” She laughed earnestly. “Just for tonight.”

“Please, it was my pleasure,” Eve replied. “I care about the message you’re sending out. I believe in it. I want the rest of Gotham to believe in it too, you’re what this city needs.” 

He chuckled, embarrassed. “You’re too kind. Maybe I should hire you as my PR assistant instead of Gemma.”

She swatted his shoulder. “Gemma’s doing a fine job as PR, give her some slack.” He laughed and passed his empty glass to a nearby waiter. 

“Care for a dance?”

She winked at him. “Wouldn’t that be a nightmare for Gemma?” 

They danced to a light, classic tune played by the small 5-piece orchestra and grand piano she had hired for the occasion, tucked away in a corner of the great festive hall. The affair was easy-going: she’d paid for the hall and the light refreshments but neither her nor Niko had wanted the night to be high-brow socialite heaven: the ball was open to anyone who dressed appropriately. 

Niko Polastri, running for mayor of Gotham City as main opponent to the current government, wanted an all access to the people he could eventually serve; to greet them, meet them, and partake in the conversations that plagued their minds about the troubles in the city. Some issues were more obvious than others. Journalists had been bumbling around the entrance since opening but he hadn’t talked to them: they had their chance during official interviews and campaign spots.

For now he danced with Eve, his patron saint for the evening. They spoke low of nothing in particular: her day, his. He’d learned easily enough that she didn’t want to talk about the logistics of what the running for mayor meant; after all she had always known more about politics than he. She’d been born into the world of industry but God knew the city always wanted into her backyard. It’s how she’d met him: at a meeting for industry and city and ecology and he ran the Green Party proudly. She’d voted for proper waste management and recycled products and implementing solar energy in her own parcels of land and their buildings and he’d beamed at her from across the table. 

They greeted the couples that swam by them dancing, paused to say hello to old friends but she let him take the reins as it was his night, not hers. She stepped back, arm looped in his, and let him charm the ladies and gentlemen who could be voting for him in the next election. Polls proclaimed it a tight race. 

“Miss Wayne? Miss Wayne!”

She glanced back behind her, lips pursed. “Sebastian.”

“Evening, Miss Wayne,” the boy smiled, clearly out of breath. He bent for a moment, palms on his knees as his lungs heaved.

“Something the matter?” 

He righted himself, huffing. “I was assigned late, I’m sorry. I had to run from the airport.”

She gave Niko a reassuring smile and untangled herself from him, motioning for him to continue his conversation with two older women. She turned to the young man. “Security knows Press isn’t allowed tonight.”

He grinned. “I’ve been told I don’t much look like Press.” She quirked an eyebrow but smiled back as she looked him over. The young Spaniard was, after all, disheveled. 

“I’ll always be surprised as to how the Daily Planet won’t supply you an apartment here, instead of having you run back and forth between you and Metropolis.”

“Maybe one day, Miss Wayne,” he said cheerily. “I’m optimistic, the better the work I produce, the better my next promotion will be.” He shrugged, grinning. “Otherwise I’ll just have to demand better.”

She smiled. “What do you want, Sebastian?”

“A quick word with you, a quick interview, that’s all.”

“Mr. Hamblett.”

The young man waved to Niko, blushing. “Good evening, sir. How are you?”

“You know you’re not allowed here,” Niko sighed. “What is it with you and weaseling your way in everywhere?” Sebastian shrugged again, hands deep in his pockets. Niko glanced at their entourage before focusing on Eve. “Would you like him escorted out?” The Korean woman shook her head and her partner’s shoulders rose and fell again. “Saved again, Mr. Hamblett. I’d say by the woman of the hour, but-“

“I’m sorry, Niko, maybe I shouldn’t have stayed this long,” Eve murmured. “I should have known someone would take tonight away from you.” Sebastian grimaced at her in apology. “Have a talk with my secretary, Mr. Hamblett, you know the number by now I think?”

“I really would appreciate it if it was sooner than later, Miss Wayne, time is of the essence.”

“Did I miss a newspaper headline?” she asked cheekily. “Anything I should be worried about?” Their friends laughed. 

“I’d love your opinion on the Luthor matter.”

Eve shook her head. “President Lex Luthor and I-“

“I meant the nephew and niece, Ms. Wayne.”

Eve paused, watching him closely. “LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises are two companies vying for the same thing, Mr. Hamblett, the betterment of their respective mother cities and their people and the people of the world. We are friendly competitors. I would oblige you to remember that.” The boy nodded, shifting his weight awkwardly. She opened her mouth to continue but was paused by a Hugo at her side, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Contact my secretary, Sebastian, we’ll talk later, alright?” She turned to Niko, taking his hands in hers. “I’m so sorry, something’s come up at the Tower.”

“Speak of the beast,” he joked. He kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about me, the situation here is well handled. I’ll give Sebastian the interview of his life.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, and kissed him soundly on the lips. Hugo tugged on her elbow and she apologized to the politician again before following him. 

The two of them left through a service door and Eve reached into her purse to take and attach a Bluetooth device to her right ear. They took the fire exit stairs up two at a time.

Her voice dropped an octave. “Oracle?”

“Right here,” a woman replied, muffled into Eve’s errant curls. “You together?” 

She glanced at Hugo. He attached his own earpiece. “Yes.”

“There’s been a break-in at the university’s zoological museum.”

“Possible suspects? Captives?”

“CCTV’s got seven armed men and two security guards tied up in the reptile hall. I’m sending over the drones to your position now”

“Ain’t that a pickle,” he sighed. “Shell shocking, really.”

Eve cleared her throat. “We’ll be there in ten, Oracle.”

“Over and out,” Hugo added cheerily. 

The roof was quiet and the clouded moon hid them and the high powered drones as they arrived in whirring noises and smooth motions, pausing over them only momentarily to drop backpacks. 

Batman and Robin leapt off the building, capes gliding behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying that this fic is lighthearted compared to my other that's in the works. While the Batman universe can be dark and gritty, God knows the BatFamily is hilarious. Please enjoy this chapter!

“Ehm, excuse me, a break in at the zoo and I wasn’t invited?” 

“It was the zoological museum, and you have midterm exams starting next week.”

Elena’s eyebrows rose and she leaned heavily on the countertop, mouth opening in mock offense. “So does Kenny!” she protested. “Eve, is Jess in on this? Jess is totally in on this.”

“Kenny doesn’t need to study nearly as much as you do,” Eve replied.

“Ouch.” Hugo padded into the kitchen, patting down his hair as he shuffled in in his sweats and slippers. “Cold, hard facts. Pass me the cereal?” Elena pushed it towards him carelessly.

“Speaking of, Hugo,” Eve placed her coffee mug down. “We need to talk about your English grades.”

Elena smirked. “Ouch, indeed.”

Eve rounded the kitchen table to flip through the mail as they bickered around the coffee brewing, the expensive Keurig barely masking their sounds. She almost missed when it had been just her and Kenny and Jess: breakfasts had been easier then.

She almost missed it when it had been just her by herself: it had been  
easiest then.

“Och, Eve, driving me to class?” Hugo asked. 

“Hmm,” she swallowed her coffee. “No.”

“Shall I take the school bus like a common peasant?”

Eve glanced at him. “You can, or you can ask Madame.”

He chuckled, widening his eyes. “Jeez, it’s just an English grade, no need to throw the beast at me. I’ll ask Kenny.”

“Any chance you’ll take me?” Elena asked.

The Korean woman shook her head. “I have to be at the Tower for 9 o’clock.”

“The famed Eve Wayne going to work?” Hugo whistled. “What has Niko done to our sweet Eve.” He shifted out of the way before Eve could slap him lightly with the edge of her newspaper, laughing. “I’ll be off then, see you later, alligators.”  
Elena shrugged at Eve, smiling before following the boy out into the corridor. 

Eve sat at the table, a six person wooden furniture painted white that matched the chrome and whitened brick look the stainless steel kitchen had. She sighed when she tilted the milk, now an empty carton. She wondered if one American fridge style was enough for the mouths she fed and she placed it back down across from her, flipping a newspaper page and drinking her coffee still black instead. 

“That goes in the recycling.”

Eve glanced back over her shoulder, surprised. “Yea, I know.”

“You say that,” Madame Tattevin muttered. “And then you do not do it. Ungrateful child.”

“Good morning to you too,” Eve said. 

The elderly woman sniffed. “I went ahead and ironed your cape. After last night’s escapade in the penguin exhibit of all things, it needed a good wash.”

“Jesus,” Eve whined. “I’ve told you a thousand times there’s-“

“Electrodes and electrons and whatever else you came up with, I know. I took the wiring out first.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed. “And put them back in?”

“Pah!” Madame Tattevin reached over to swat her on the back of the head. “You wouldn’t know wiring if I hadn’t taught you.”

Her ward laughed, waving her off. “Okay, okay. Thank you.”

“Il nous faudrait une bonne guerre, ” the woman said. 

“I know,” Eve repeated. 

A hint of a smile graced Madame Tattevin. “Your meeting at nine, don’t forget it. Your briefcase is by the door. Shall I drive you?”

“No, it’s okay.” Eve stood up, passing her hand over the shorter woman’s shoulders. “You take it easy.” Tattevin sniffed lightly and picked the milk carton up, pointing it at Eve before the Korean woman left the room. 

She took the Porsche, the hot red one, to Wayne Tower by the small side streets: there was no reason to take the peripheric highway around the city from the manor since it was rush hour. As president of the company she had her own parking floor, long and empty save for extra cars if she or the boys felt like going home in something different. Elena rarely passed by the enterprise. 

Her secretary was waiting for her when she waltzed in and they fell into step together, Eve motioning for her to begin.

“Big investors meeting at nine.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Eve said.

“Sebastian’s been here since opening.”

“Since 6 o’clock?”

“I think he slept on the steps.”

Eve took the tablet offered to her but she chewed on the inside of her cheek instead of looking. The woman had been sweet in that she’d gone ahead and copied the staff notes into her personal files but she’d read them already. She checked her watch.

“Have Sebastian come to my office, I’ve got twenty minutes.”

The boy was haggard looking but cheerful, clasping his notebook to his chest like an excited child. He thanked her profusely as she led him to a chair across from her desk and he took the coffee handed to him appreciatively, sighing when it hit the back of his throat. 

She sat down in her chair, crossing her legs beneath it. “You’ve got thirteen minutes before my secretary comes in here screaming like a banshee and dragging me out by force. Usually I let her try but I really just want this morning to be over.”

He smiled at her. “Did you not know they were in town?”

She paused, and blinked. “What?”

“Amber and Aaron Luthor.”

“What am I, Gotham secret service?” Eve countered, laughing. “They’re allowed to come and go, Mr. Hamblett, the Luthors have never not been allowed here, or anywhere. They’re trusted colleagues in any circle, public or private.”

“They might be allowed anywhere but everybody knows they stay away from Gotham and Wayne Enterprises,” Sebastian said. He wiggled his eyebrows. “A secret treaty.”

“I go to Metropolis all the time.”

“And they shit their pants when you do.”

Eve shook her head, looking away before she broke and smiled at the journalist. “Why are you telling me this?”

“If you didn’t know they were here,” he began, pausing for effect. “Then you don’t know about their bid?”

Eve leaned forward, elbows digging into the glass tabletop. “I read the same economy articles you do, Sebastian. I know about the bid.” She shrugged. “It only makes sense they’d be in town if the bidding is taking place here.”

“Ah, yes, but what is the bid for?”

The Korean woman fell back into her chair, shrugging. “Time’s up, Mr. Hamblett.”

He threw his hands up jokingly. “Ah, so close!”

“You’ll just have to tell Perry I’m a steel vault.”

He winked. “Will do.”

OOOoooOOO

It was no surprise to Eve that her name was plastered all over the Tech front page of the Daily Planet that afternoon when she got home. Eve Wayne via Sebastian knew something that apparently, she herself didn’t. She knew about the bid, she’d been truthful about that, but she had no idea what the Luthor twins were up to. She rarely did. If their uncle Lex was open about his own ambitions and plans, Amber and Aaron were his quiet counterparts, working in the shadows.

The Batcave was cool, the temperature dropping steadily as Eve descended the stone cut stairs into the main underground system. She paused in the first chamber and pressed the palm of her hand to a small panel embedded in the granite wall. There was a beep, a light blue glow, and the surface began to rumble before it shifted and was replaced by a negative space containing her armor. 

The Batman entered the main chamber, a grand space that held the main system computer and gave way to corridors leading to other caves that only she knew all the secrets to. A constant map of Gotham City was on one of the many screens with blinking legend icons moving to and fro; another transcribed police and emergency service conversations in real time, something Eve knew Jess was keeping an eye on too. Nightwing sat in the computer chair, tapping away furiously on a smaller laptop at his side. He glanced back behind him and nodded at her, acknowledging her presence. 

She watched him work in silence.

“Poison Ivy,” he finally offered. “Those police officers she attacked last week?”

“They’re at Gotham General.”

Nightwing nodded. “I went to check on them last night while you were out on patrol. They’re stable and the nurses assured me their brain activity is reading as normal but I’m still trying to figure out this new compound of hers.” He pointed to the screen and she leaned down to watch. “I was able to read about forty-five percent of it; it reminds me of that one Chrysanthemum based toxin she made.”

“The one at the highway inauguration ceremony,” Batman said. 

“Right.” The young man shifted forward in the program, the chemical strains moving and twisting. “And then there’s this, near the tail end of the sequence, that I haven’t been able to decipher yet.” He looked up at her. 

“That’s good work, Kenny.”

He smiled at her and gave up his seat to her, closing his laptop. He paused. “Ah, Commissioner Pargrave called.” He shifted on the balls of his feet. “He said it was important but, not important enough for the signal.”

OOOoooOOO

The Caped Crusader stood at the edge of the police headquarter’s roof, heels dangling in the wide emptiness of the city underneath as she watched Bill Pargrave smoking a half-burnt cigarette. The light illuminated his face dimly. He glanced to the side when Batman stepped closer, crunching gravel beneath her combat boot purposefully.

“Jesus, there you are, I’d thought you'd flake on me,” the commissioner joked. He glanced around wearily. “Robin isn’t with you?”

“He has homework.”

The officer chuckled but the woman before him remained stoic and his laugh trailed off awkwardly. “Right. This was mailed to us,” he handed Batman a plastic bag already tagged with the GCPD initials. A USB key floated freely inside. “By the Blüdhaven regional jewelry exhibition. You know, the permanent one?” Batman stayed silent. “Their attic was broken into in the middle of the day. No tripwires, no alarms, just a CCTV from the street, outside and looking in. A clean job through and through. Diamonds, rubies, that kind of stuff.”

“Not too clean if they were caught by cameras. No security in a storage space?” Batman asked. 

“Doesn’t sound too smart, does it,” the man said. “It was apparently what they call a ‘lost’ collection: they forgot it was up there about fifty years ago.”

“Someone knew.”

“Yea.”

The Batman stared the commissioner down. “Blüdhaven isn’t your jurisdiction.”

“No, it’s not,” Pargrave admitted. “Frank from Forensics had a look at it, you’re going to want to too. Believe me.”

“Thanks, Bill.”

“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” he sighed. He glanced back behind him. “By the way, did you-“ he paused, very much alone on the rooftop. 

OOOoooOOO

Dawn was filtering in through the windows of the Wayne manor upstairs when the Batman was able to get to the USB. Tired but with her interest piqued nonetheless she sat down at the computer and pushed the device into one of the many ports on the console. The folder was simple, there was one file containing a video and nothing else. Whoever had programmed it hadn’t even bothered to name the storage unit. 

Batgirl stood to her right eating a light breakfast that Tattevin had no doubt prepared her when she’d finished her patrol of the Narrows. Batman spied a flash of red and green to her left and she noticed Robin staring at the screen too, suddenly interested. He dropped from the chin bar he’d been dangling from and strolled over, eyebrows up in question. 

“Is that what the commissioner wanted to talk to you about?” Nightwing appeared from the shadows behind her. Nestled in between her apprentices she leaned over and double-clicked on the video. 

It expended to take over the screen and Batman sat back to watch.

The footage was placed on a busy street, she could tell from the shadows thrown on the building’s walls and the view was almost perfect into the exhibition hall’s attic large bay window. They waited a moment as the seconds passed by on the security tape’s built-in clock before a shadow finally slipped down from the roof and used a glass cutter to open a pane into the attic. Dressed entirely in black, the mask the thief was wearing didn’t help their body from betraying that they were a young woman, fit and agile. 

She seemed to zero in on what she’d come for easily, throwing open crates and reaching in and carelessly throwing the contents into her own slim backpack. When she was done the thief looked around the room nonchalantly, seen on the camera only by the angles she moved her head though Eve wondered if her eyes darted back and forth behind the cover-up. She prepared to leave out the high-leveled window she’d come in through but chose instead to climb the wall effortlessly by its apparent steel beams and she reached for the skylight when she’d made her way to the center of the beams. But she paused suddenly, seemingly a statue. She turned her head, long black ponytail swinging from one shoulder to the other.

And she looked straight into the camera. Seconds on seconds, almost a minute of just a mask in the empty void of the space, staring in the direction of the video footage, into Eve’s soul. 

Then she turned and pulled herself up through the skylight and disappeared. 

The file disappeared and the four stared, stunned. 

“Was that, was she wearing a Japanese theater mask?” Nightwing said. 

“Shaped like a cat’s face?” Robin looked over Batman’s shoulder. “Catwoman?”

“No.” She glanced at him. “Not her style.”

“Not her hair,” Batgirl added. “And she hasn’t been sighted in Gotham in years. Not since she broke out of Blackgate.” Robin shrugged. 

Batman shook her head. “Someone new, then.” She leaned forward and tapped a circular button. “Oracle?”

“Right here, boss.”

“I’m sending over a file.”

“Got it.” There was a pause. “Well, well, who’s this?”

“Do you think you can cross-reference her body movements, the MO, the mask with the current list of ex-cons from Blackgate, Arkham, and Sing-Sing?” Batman said. “She’s obviously done this before.”

Oracle cleared her throat. “The starin’s kinda creepy, ain’t it. Starting the scan now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, go Jodie Comer for that Emmy win. Damn, boys.  
Hope you enjoy this chapter and the story's progression, let me know! Love you guys!

“Don’t.”

The girl glanced at the man at her side in surprise before pulling her theater mask off from the top of her head completely, throwing it onto a table top. Her blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail gave her a youthful, innocent air and she played on the look a little more as she began to pout, reaching her fingers out again to touch the console in front of her. 

The man swatted her hand away, huffing now. “Do not do that.” She feigned hurt as she sidled away and around the configuration systems. He pulled at his greying whiskers nervously. “This is a very sensitive equipment.” She watched him, glancing between his thoughtful gaze and the buttons as he sighed inwardly to himself, shaking his head. “Were you successful?”

She scoffed, truly hurt now. “Of course I was.” His eyebrows raised, mimicking her pout from earlier and she sighed dramatically before pulling her backpack off and handing it to him. He turned to open the zipper and she leaned over the console, fingers flirting with the keys. 

He glanced at her. “I did not ask for rubies.”

She shrugged, smiling brightly. “Those are for me.” He waited a moment before laughing and her grin grew with his. 

“This is perfect, Villanelle,” he said, Russian accent losing its edge for a moment. “You deserve the price you asked.”

“Why, thank you Doctor Konstantin,” she preened. 

“You are not going to ask for an extra?”

The girl tilted her head. “Should I?” She leaned in, stage whispering. “I do not think you can afford it.”

“You might be right.” Konstantin turned to a shelf and began placing the gemstones there, carefully.

“Why do you need these anyway?”

Finished, he handed her the bag back. “You are the first to ask me that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before?”

“Asked a thief to steal for me?” he said. “Yes. I would do it myself, of course, if I was twenty years younger. And if I did not have a bad shoulder.”

Villanelle pouted. “Aww.”

Konstantin paused, biting the inside of his cheek. “This is for my daughter.”

“Oh, she has good taste.” The girl nodded. “Very good taste.”

He watched her. “She is sick. In a coma.”

“Well, she will look fabulous anyway.” She rounded the console again and let her eyes rove over the buttons hungrily. “What do these do?” She hummed noises, like the sounds a telephone would make if she had been pressing the dials and he once again stopped her, losing his patience now. He held her elbow lightly and led her away, farther into the warehouse-like studio. 

“I am not interested in the diamonds, Villanelle.”

She grimaced, nose wrinkling at how he held her. She pulled away and rubbed at the fabric. “Then why ask me for them? I could have died!”

He tilted his head, leaning in. “Were you seen?”

“No,” she sniffed. “But I could have fallen. I was up very high, you know.”

Konstantin laughed, a big boom that echoed around the room and she watched him curiously. He stilled before beelining towards the small kitchen in the corner of the studio space. He began to make himself and her a drink without asking. “I give them to a contact of mine in exchange for parts that I cannot find myself otherwise.” He waved the vodka bottle to her, punctuating his words. “He does not care for the money and only wants to be paid in diamonds. The size he requires in exchange is well,” he shrugged. “Impossible to find on the market.”

“Maybe I should work for him.”

“Maybe you should.”

“This equipment.” She drank from her shot glass, swallowing it straight down and placing it back on the dirty counter. “For your daughter?”

Konstantin looked down at his own glass, swirling the liquid there. “Irina fell sick, a long time ago. Doctors tried everything they could, but-“ He shrugged lightly. “Here I am. Trying to fix her.”

Villanelle smirked, leaning heavily on her elbows. “Where does the evil alter ego come into play?”

“Before I hurt my shoulder, I would get other types of equipment, or the diamonds, myself.” He looked away, to a closet deep in the space. “I have not put the armor on in a long time.”

“How did you hurt your shoulder?”

Konstantin sighed heavily. “The Batman.”

Villanelle breathed out harshly. “How was that?”

“Painful.”

The two shared another glass silently, Villanelle busy staring at a stain in the wall. She served herself a third serving and let him putter around her, play with the computers in the room. She took the time now to really spare a glance at her surroundings, noting the amount of cardboard boxes, the fridges, the tubes that led to a closed off room in the opposite corner. It seemed the good doctor had put a biometrics lock on it and she let her hazel green eyes slide to his large hands working the small keyboard at one of the many   
consoles. 

“I want to meet her.”

He looked up, surprised. “What?”

“Batman. I want to meet her.”

He stepped closer to her, a finger in her face. “No, you do not.”

She flicked him away, frowning heavily. “Yes, I do.” 

Stepping into her personal space, he spoke to her softly but gruffly. “She is dangerous. She will not hesitate to turn you in to the police.”

“I have never been caught, Konstantin,” Villanelle gloated. “Even the Flash could not stop me. That pesky star woman and her robot friend from the Society tried too.” She began to smile, a conspiracy writing itself into her features. “If you are so scared, you could always give me one of your little toys.”

“Oh, no. No you are not getting a freeze ray.” He opened his arms wide, laughing earnestly. “I cannot trust you with that!”

“Just a small one!” she whined back. She thought for a moment before brightening. “I’ll do you a trade.” Konstantin laughed again and she was starting to like the jovial sound and he motioned for her to continue. “The diamonds, I am sure they are worth much more than this equipment you are buying off this man.”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

“I will get you more of this equipment you need, no middle-man,” she said. “And you can keep the diamonds. You can make necklaces for Irina.”

“For a freeze ray?”

Villanelle smiled. “It is worth it, no?”

He leaned on the console heavily. “I have no idea where you could find this equipment, Villanelle. The black market is much more tight-lipped than it used to be.”

“I’ll ask your middle-man.” She held her hand out, waving her fingers lightly at him enticingly, eyebrows raised. “I get your stuff, you give me a freeze ray.”

He went to reach for her hand but paused, frowning deeply. “You changed the subject.”

She feigned surprise. “Did I?”

“The Batman?”

Villanelle pushed the thought away with her free hand, grasping for his fingers. She shook them quickly and vigorously. “What is the middle-man’s name?”

Konstantin watched her, curling his hand into hers and feeling her heartbeat there. “You are quite strange, Villanelle,” he said. 

“Sensational,” she corrected him. 

He raised his shoulders. “Well, yes, but strange.” He sighed. “I’d better not hear that you froze the Batman to the side of a building with one of my rays. It will be my butt on the line; she knows my work much too well.”

Villanelle grinned, glowing. “Ah, but what a gorgeous butt you have, Mr. Freeze.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave your thoughts, love you all!

The line leading to the famed Iceberg Lounge ran around the block and it wasn’t much of a surprise for Villanelle, out on a Saturday evening. 

Even if she had known what to expect she still hated the throng, the crowds, of young adults pressed too closely together and already high on poppers or drunk from their pre-games. She walked past them, hands in her pockets and strolling leisurely all the way to the front of the line. The knife inside of her lapel of her suit jacket kept her warm. The club’s front doors were closed, two burly men watching the crowd sourly in their navy-blue sweaters that probably hid Glocks. Villanelle fixed her wig; something curled by the salted Mediterranean wigs and exotically black with a length past her shoulder blades. 

She pushed roughly past the persons waiting in line and planted herself before the guards, hands on her hips, demeanor changed. “Good evening, boys,” she said. Her Italian accent was light behind the harsh city street rumble; it suggested of a birth in the Madonna’s cradle and an upbringing within the American crime families. The guards glanced between themselves, unfazed. “I’m awaited inside.” 

“Name?”

Villanelle smiled. “Lucia Viti.”

They shared another glance. “Miss Viti, please, come in.”

She walked into the Lounge, bold as brass. 

She’d expected a nightclub, bodies stuck close together in darkness and a thumping beat drowning her thoughts out but the affair was much classier than she’d expected. She was pleased with herself in wearing designer wherever she went, for whichever situation. Even the more rowdy ones. She walked around the lobby, peering into the circular room and watching the water flow from its fountain, the eerily silent penguins watching her back, it seemed. The walkway above her head, an eight-armed star, attached itself to the second floor balconies and held over the ground floor and the waterworks. There, Villanelle knew, were the big fish. Held over the flightless birds, dangled before their maws. 

A man appeared at her side and she felt the cold barrel of a gun prod her between her ribs. Glancing behind her, she was motioned by him to the grand staircase with a quick jut of a square chin. She was going up.

Sofia Falcone Gigante was a woman true to her name; a big broad ugly thing that towered even when she sat. Villanelle was thrust into a chair opposite her and the girl cast the man a wry look, flattening the sides of her costly jacket. The crime family giantess watched her closely as she finished a glass of Lambrusco and placed it back gingerly on the clothed tabletop before lacing her fingers together in her lap. The patrons at other tables kept their gazes to themselves, voices low.

“While I appreciate that you called before you showed up,” Sofia began. “You’re treadin’ on thin ground, proclaiming yourself to be a Viti to my men in front of everyone.”

Villanelle shrugged offhandedly. “I thought it would be fun, being part of the famiglia.” She kept the accent and she could tell it infuriated Sofia.

Gigante leaned back in her chair. “You have approximately ten minutes of my time. And remember, anything you say can have you dealt with in a back alley, execution style.”

Villanelle sprawled in her own seat, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. She narrowed her eyes appreciatively as she looked around the domed hall’s architecture. “This is not your establishment,” she said. Sofia gazed at her evenly, rubbing her chin distastefully and Villanelle knew without having met the man that she took the gesture from her father. “I would have thought that the damage done by the Firefly to your restaurant would have been repaired by now.” Villanelle’s eyes tore back to Sofia, flashing. “Or did Mario finally kick you out?”

Like a cat lounging within the throws of chaos, Villanelle smiled softly when Sofia reached for a gun from beneath her blouse and rested it on the table, aligned with the girl. 

“A sore spot?” she asked, purring. 

Sofia pushed a grunt out of her throat. “The Lounge is Cobblepot’s.”

Villanelle tapped her chin, imitating the woman in front of her step by step, bent on destabilizing her. “I know that, Gigante. Can I call you Gigante?” Sofia said nothing. “I’ve always wondered: you Italians, do you honestly enjoy running restaurants or are they simply a good and easy store front to establish? Because I would love to open a restaurant.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I love food.”

“You asked to see me to talk food?”

Villanelle spread her arms wide, innocently gazing at her counterpart. “I asked to see you to talk opening a restaurant.” 

Sofia smiled ruefully and snapped her fingers. A waiter posted at their attention came quickly, topped both her and Villanelle’s glasses up with the bottle waiting in the ice bucket at his side and the Falcone heiress nodded sharply at him. He bowed low and rushed off, most likely to the kitchens. He looked like a penguin waddling away and Villanelle hadn’t met Cobblepot but she disliked him more and more. 

Villanelle spoke low, eyes trained on the chandeliers. “I have an offer for you.”

Sofia laughed. “For a restaurant?”

The blonde feigned a pout before smiling herself. “Exactly.” She waved her hand. “You see, I am paid a lot to do what I have been doing, but I am tired of doing it because it is boring.” She nodded to herself. “I am worth more than thieving diamonds.”

“I’m sure you are,” the mobster said dryly. 

“Let me cut to the chase, Gigante.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “One of your men is going behind your back and using your equipment and your men to steal shipments from Wayne Enterprise cargo ships when they arrive at the harbor.”

Sofia’s back suddenly tensed and she was fingering the gun at her side. 

“And while I know being used is not something you,” Villanelle glanced over the woman, grimacing. “Enjoy? I am not here on the behalf of the Enterprise either.”

“And?”

“And if I do not tell you exactly who, when, where, this man will continue stealing from you and the police might just anonymously be tipped off, wherein this man will definitely find a way to drop your name during any resulting investigation.” Villanelle sighed shortly. “And what would papa think of that?”

“You are threatening me.”

“No,” she replied cheerily. “Because there is something in it for you too! I tell you who, when, where, and you take over the operation. You keep the containers, the money you make off of them, I keep my mouth shut, we open a restaurant.”

Sofia shifted in her seat, silently furious. “What’s in it for you?”

Villanelle smiled. “Ah.” 

She waited a moment as the waiter reappeared, plates in hand. She didn’t really look at what she’d been offered before taking a fork and digging in, her grip looking like a three year old’s; a closed fist around the utensil as she shoveled the dish into her gaping maw. Sofia watched her carefully. 

The girl reached for a bread roll and broke into it to sauce her plate. Osso bucco, she remarked. She shrugged lightly. “I just want some specific equipment from the shipments. It is just some parts that your man was acting as seller for. I would not need anything too often, just when my-“ she glanced sideways. “friend, needs something.” She sauced some more, noisily. “I had a look at your man’s little operation, it is almost foolproof. You are smarter than him and you can make sure nothing goes awry in the future; the administrative side of things and all, the paperwork off the boats. You keep the money, I eat for free.”

Gigante chewed slowly. “You’re basically giving me an illegal and nearly invisible activity on a silver platter, just because you want some nuts and bolts and free food whenever you feel like it?”

Villanelle stared at her, a blank slate as she held her fork in midair, food threatening to fall off. “Yes?”

“Why?”

The blonde crinkled her nose. “I already told you, I like food, and I am tired of stupid jobs.” She grinned, eyes wide. “Will you be sending this man to the bottom of the river, with cement attached to his feet? Can I watch?”

“Who is it?” Sofia asked harshly.

Villanelle hummed around a mouthful, waving her fork. “No, no, I need confirmation on this deal. I could just go to him but I do not like liars or middle-men, but I also do not like being double-crossed. You have to shake on it. A contract, if you will.” She waggled her finger. “I am very good at killing, and you would never be far enough for me to hunt down. Those are my terms.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Villanelle smiled again. “You can think on it, of course.” She turned to look at the waiter who had appeared again and she reached out, ignoring the sudden look of fear crossing his features, and held his hand. “That was delicious, thank you. Sofia, delicious. You should hire the chef for our restaurant. Tell him we will pay triple what Cobblepot pays.” She sniffed, turning around to gaze over the establishment and the waiter managed to wrangle himself free. “I would love to see this place burned to the ground. It is a travesty and a shame to use such architecture as a birdcage.”

That made the mobster laugh, a big bellowing laugh that Villanelle figured belonged more to a big red ape than a woman but she joined with her own airy one that she had heard on the television once, between two kills in an apartment. 

Gigante’s fingers were flirting with the gun again. “The name?”

“I could kill him for you,” Villanelle added. “Take care of the issue myself.”

“What, so that I owe you blindly? Do you think I would go back on my word?”

“Oh, I would never dare suggest that of such a high-ranking member of the Gotham crime facilities,” the assassin replied airily. “But yes.”

“Give me the name, the boy’ll be taken care of and the debt will be repaid with what you asked. That’s a Falcone promise.”

“I will be taking that promise to the bank.” They met in the middle of the table to shake hands and Villanelle’s eyes flashed. “Johnny Diamante.” 

Sofia’s face darkened and her grip tightened around Villanelle’s knuckles who didn’t shift or break eye contact and finally the giantess let her go, seemingly spent and annoyed at the same time. 

Villanelle fell back into her chair, pleased. “Best thing you can do now, I think, for you and me,” she said. “Is act like I have just offended you. Toss me out of here. The works,” she added in a heavier slang. “You know?” She tutted. “I would not want people to think we got along. Helps blur the lines a little bit.”

Sofia watched her, laughing incredulously and then she sobered quite suddenly, face twisting into the rage too many in the backstreets had seen. “Who the fuck are you?” She sobered, leaning forward, a fist slamming onto the table. “Who the fuck do you think you are walking in here and acting like you know me? My family? What I would ever or never need off of a tramp walking off the street in a cheap party store wig?”

The girl frowned. “It looks cheap?”

Villanelle was pulled to her feet by men appearing at her back, the chair squeaking and groaning as she was grasped under her arms and hoisted to stand with her toes barely touching the floor. She’d seen the henchmen before, in the shadows of the balcony, watching but not given the right to listen in. Sofia stood and kicked her chair across the walkway, where the patrons had frozen in their tracks at the scene. Basking. 

“I’m gonna gut you,” the mobster sneered. 

Villanelle’s grin was a shark’s, full teeth and sharp canines and when she turned her head and sank them into one of the henchmen’s hands wrapped around her shoulder, her smile was red as she cackled. She was pushed to the floor and she fell silent as men scrambled to cover the Falcone daughter but she was already atop the man she’d maimed, wrapped around his back and her thighs around his waist as she strangled him. 

The two were tackled by another big man and Villanelle scrapped with the two of them, reaching for the sharp-bladed knife inside her lapel. She raised it high above her head before plunging it down repeatedly in one of their chests; quick, jagged movements that seemed a blur until he was dead beneath her. 

Sofia was a gargantuan woman and Villanelle let herself be pulled off, limbs limp like a ragdoll. She snarled some more for show, gnashing her teeth. 

It was cold behind the Lounge and it smelled of penguin shit and Villanelle took the time to dust herself off and clean her knife with her handkerchief. She left the blood on her face. Sofia rumbled out of the door from where she’d tossed Villanelle and marched up to her, towering over the blonde, but she did nothing, instead fishing a cigarette out of her pocket. 

“I hope you’re a Catholic,” Sofia said, face illuminated for a moment by her lighter. “I’ll be praying for your soul in Hell tonight, you crazy bitch.” She jutted her chin out. “Get outta here.”

Villanelle’s smile was wide and she pulled on the bottom of her suit jacket, straightening it, and she swayed innocently, blushing at Sofia on command. “Oh daddy, forgive me for I have been naughty.” Sofia spit down at her feet and the blonde cackled before beginning her walk to the main streets, where the line into the Lounge ended again. It had begun to rain, cloaking the city in darkness.

She called back. “You are much bigger than Mario, you know that? I do not see why you do not just crush his skull between your thighs.”

Sofia frowned and blew smoke away. “He is the favorite.”

“So?”

OOOoooOOO

The Batman landed on the clock tower’s roof with a muffled noise, shingles rained on slick under her boots. She pocketed her grapple gun into her utility belt as she watched the city beneath her, bustling and alive despite the lateness of the hour. Or the early morning that it was. She made her way up the north face of the monument and stood on a roof access trapdoor. It was triggered by a motion plate and DNA recognition technology hidden in the nearby gargoyles, something she had built herself and implemented with Kenny’s help when he’d taken the mantle of Nightwing. The boy had wanted the hollowed out inside of the historical building to be his own headquarter but he’d quickly given it up within a fortnight. He preferred the habits of home. 

Now, the Gotham clock tower housed the Oracle, retreated in the shadows and within harsh splashes of green. 

Batman let herself be swallowed by the feet-first drop tunnel and she landed heavily in darkness and projections thrown on walls of the circular room. 

“Hey, boss.”

“Oracle.”

The Batman rounded the room and faced Jess who looked up at her, smiling softly. In her lap her child napped; a two-year old toddler that had been the root of the Batgirl’s, first of her name, initial retirement into tech and surveillance work. Elena had come along and taken her place and her title and Jess had stayed on in the tower as the watching eye of the city. She spent less time away from home, a necessity since the streets meant bruises, broken bones and long nights. And she was happy, and that was all Eve could ask for.

“He’s teething,” Jess sighed, bluetooth device ever attached to her ear. “It’s been horrible.”

Batman reached for the child and Jess gently handed him over, stretching her neck muscles before turning back to the computer screens, three 4k plasmas as large as flat screen televisions. The caped crusader hummed softly to her son, bouncing him lightly between her padded arm guards. 

“I finished the crosscheck with the New York state reference database, like you asked,” Jess said. “No results.”

“Did you-“

“Yes. Nothing within the United States either, continental or otherwise. No Japanese cat mask sightings, no burglar that’s known to act or move this way. She’s, according to the archives, new to the scene.”

“Seemingly so,” Batman said. 

Jess shrugged. “Sure. I can check Interpol if you’d like but this was a petty theft. Easy, almost. It wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention over there. It only did the museum because of her little display near the end.”

The Batman paced lightly. “There’s always the possibility that she’s new, then.” She paused. “Or a trainee.”

Oracle turned in her swivel chair to face Batman, leaning back heavily. “I know you like, miss her or whatever? But Catwoman doesn’t do trainees. You know that.”

Batman grunted heavily. “Neither did I.”

“She’s on some island, relaxing and drinking Sexes on the Beach by the bucketful. Leave it alone, Eve.”

The Batman stepped forward to watch the screens, the security footage paused on the girl in question, still against the backdrop of ceiling beams. “There’s something about her. There’s a lot of thieves, Oracle. We’ve met a lot. But she’s different. She seems, dangerous, almost. But what is it exactly about her?” the Batman asked. She sighed tightly. “But yes, I agree. This isn’t Catwoman’s style, trainee or not.”

“Thank God for that.” Jess swiveled lightly in her chair, one foot tucked under her thigh, the other helping her propel herself in little circles. “Bill knows this is Blüdhaven circumscription. He noticed the same thing you did. This danger.” She glanced back at a smaller laptop on a side desk. “Department had nothing to note about the video file. Is that normal?”

“Frank did the initial report.”

Jess snorted. “Knowing him, I’m surprised he was able to press play.”

Batman glanced back at her but the woman said nothing, gaze fixed on the video playing on a loop on another screen. Her son began to squirm lightly and Oracle turned to take him back, smiling softly. “I’ll check up on Interpol for you, just in case, and on Catwoman’s homing beacon for your peace of mind.”

“Thank you.”

Jess nodded, faraway and pensive. “I still wonder how you got her to keep it on her.”

The Batman began walking away. “Madame will want you for Sunday lunch, don’t forget.”

“Are you kidding?” Jess called back. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle, pointing at the Penguin: WHAt are thoOOOOOSE
> 
> The Penguin, cajoling Killer Croc: This is my CROC

**Author's Note:**

> Yes? No? Maybe so?


End file.
